Alone. He was alone, and it was his own fault. The townspeople were gone, the plants were gone... Fletcher knew all of this even though he was nowhere near a position where he could see them. He was sitting in a corner of his and Russel's laboratory, the one that in reality, had been destroyed nearly a year ago. But it was here now, and he was there, the tables and windowsills lined with potted plants, beakers, microscopes, vials of a deep red liquid, and the brothers' notes, the papers detailing their research and methods for completing their father's work. Their methods for destroying a village.
The image was seared into his mind's eye. The gas had leaked up from underground and overtaken the town overnight, and though he hadn't even gone outside, somehow he could still clearly see the people he'd hurt. He could see them coughing and gasping for air. Coughing up blood and then choking on it. And the worst part of all was that it wasn't just the townspeople he remembered from home. The other members of Stacy's crew were there. Tess was there, and Vivio, and all the other children he'd met. Captain Kirk, and Kang, and even people he only knew by name and reputation. All of them had suffered a painful death because Fletcher had been too weak to stop it.
And even Russel. He'd gone down to the spring not long ago to seal it off. Fletcher, coward that he was, had remained here in this corner, curled up on himself. And he knew that Russel, too, had been taken. He'd heard the coughing and gasping somehow even from here. And then, even worse, the sound of the coughing had stopped, and Russel was gone. All his fault. All of it was Fletcher's fault.
The gas was still rising upward, and soon, it would reach him here on the third floor of the mansion. He didn't even question how he knew it to be true; it was going to happen, and that was what mattered. Soon he'd be like the rest, coughing until he'd want to rip his own throat out, before mercifully falling unconscious. Fletcher whimpered and buried his face in his knees. He didn't want to die, but someone like him deserved no less.
The air burned her throat and made her eyes water, but they'd made it up the mansion's stairs and into the room. Sherry coughed into her elbow (coughing on your hands spread germs, after all) and called, "Hello? Hello, is anyone there? Hello!"
Was that a person's voice calling? But there was no one left. He had to be imagining it. Fletcher whimpered a little more and remained huddled where he was, a pitiful little ball of fear and guilt. It was going to take more than that to break him out of his shell.
Another voice? That wasn't possible. It just wasn't. No one was left. But he'd heard something...
Fletcher peeked up. It wasn't as though anyone was around to make fun of him for reacting to figments of his imagination. He wiped his eyes, but he was still crying so it didn't do much good.
A girl and a... mouse? He was certainly imagining things. He hiccupped. But if they were real... Voice quavering, he managed to squeak out, "Run away."
"Oh, don't be so stupid," Sherry pulled herself up to her full (admittedly unimpressive) height and put one hand on her hip. "This might be scary, but what kind of boy sits in a corner and cowers." Hey, if she could hide and run away from zombies, a little mist should be no problem for a boy. "So," Sherry walked over her little feet stomping across the wood, "get. up."
Fletcher's hesitation was costing all of them precious time. Closer to the ground as he was, Fletcher was the first to catch a breath of the poisonous gas. He started to cough and his eyes watered, and the order Sherry gave seemed like a perfectly reasonable one. Even though he knew he was only prolonging the inevitable, Fletcher stood up.
He wiped his eyes again, and now he recognized the girl. "Sherry? But you're..." She was one of the ones who was lying dead in the streets. He was sure of it.
Doc had stood behind Sherry, waiting to back her up if she needed it but from the looks of things? She could handle herself. He had seen some weird and downright spooky things during his time at Blood Gulch but this Nightmare King? It took the metaphorical cake.
"This isn't real, it's some trap made by the Nightmare King to keep us in our nightmares."
Well, she was learning something from her parents, after all. At least it wasn't cheesy one-liners. "Um, no, I'm not. As you can plainly see," Sherry's brow furrowed as she watched Fletcher cough. Well, she wasn't a doctor, but that red stuff was probably not good for him. Or the rest of them. She moved Caelestine from her hand to the top of her head, where he would be a little higher out of the gas and could hold on to her headband for safety.
"We still need to find Yuri, Roxie, Vega and Vivio, too, you know. Even that other girl, Alessa." Just because Sherry disliked her didn't mean that Sherry wasn't heartless enough to not look for her. Sherry took his hand and looked back at Doc. "So, what do we need to do to get out of here?"
Fletcher sniffled and coughed a little more. It was going to be too late soon, why didn't they run away?
The Nightmare King?
The illusion wavered for a moment, but its grip on him was strong. If it wasn't real... If he really wasn't here, if they really weren't dead, those people... It wavered again, mainly because he wished so hard that it wasn't real. If it wasn't real, he hadn't actually...
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The image was seared into his mind's eye. The gas had leaked up from underground and overtaken the town overnight, and though he hadn't even gone outside, somehow he could still clearly see the people he'd hurt. He could see them coughing and gasping for air. Coughing up blood and then choking on it. And the worst part of all was that it wasn't just the townspeople he remembered from home. The other members of Stacy's crew were there. Tess was there, and Vivio, and all the other children he'd met. Captain Kirk, and Kang, and even people he only knew by name and reputation. All of them had suffered a painful death because Fletcher had been too weak to stop it.
And even Russel. He'd gone down to the spring not long ago to seal it off. Fletcher, coward that he was, had remained here in this corner, curled up on himself. And he knew that Russel, too, had been taken. He'd heard the coughing and gasping somehow even from here. And then, even worse, the sound of the coughing had stopped, and Russel was gone. All his fault. All of it was Fletcher's fault.
The gas was still rising upward, and soon, it would reach him here on the third floor of the mansion. He didn't even question how he knew it to be true; it was going to happen, and that was what mattered. Soon he'd be like the rest, coughing until he'd want to rip his own throat out, before mercifully falling unconscious. Fletcher whimpered and buried his face in his knees. He didn't want to die, but someone like him deserved no less.
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Look, Fletcher! A friend!
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Fletcher peeked up. It wasn't as though anyone was around to make fun of him for reacting to figments of his imagination. He wiped his eyes, but he was still crying so it didn't do much good.
A girl and a... mouse? He was certainly imagining things. He hiccupped. But if they were real... Voice quavering, he managed to squeak out, "Run away."
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He wiped his eyes again, and now he recognized the girl. "Sherry? But you're..." She was one of the ones who was lying dead in the streets. He was sure of it.
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"This isn't real, it's some trap made by the Nightmare King to keep us in our nightmares."
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At least it wasn't cheesy one-liners."Um, no, I'm not. As you can plainly see," Sherry's brow furrowed as she watched Fletcher cough. Well, she wasn't a doctor, but that red stuff was probably not good for him. Or the rest of them. She moved Caelestine from her hand to the top of her head, where he would be a little higher out of the gas and could hold on to her headband for safety."We still need to find Yuri, Roxie, Vega and Vivio, too, you know. Even that other girl, Alessa." Just because Sherry disliked her didn't mean that Sherry wasn't heartless enough to not look for her. Sherry took his hand and looked back at Doc. "So, what do we need to do to get out of here?"
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The Nightmare King?
The illusion wavered for a moment, but its grip on him was strong. If it wasn't real... If he really wasn't here, if they really weren't dead, those people... It wavered again, mainly because he wished so hard that it wasn't real. If it wasn't real, he hadn't actually...